I followed an earnest canine into ‘Mercado El Chorito’. I figured he was as good a tour guide as any and like any self-respecting dog would, he led me straight to a taco stand. I mean, with cow’s head and tripe tacos on offer who could blame him? So I pulled up a pew myself.

What else? A minute bicycle store packed to the absolute brim and the most handsome OXXO (convenience store) I’ve ever seen, tucked away in a swank neighbourhood of the moneyed.

Without being elected to do so all this is some kind of representation of an area around a station with such a democratic name.